Books I cry over

I have been given an ultimatum of sorts regarding a certain author’s books that infallibly bring me to tears. 

And by tears, I mean the not-pretty-at-all sort of sniffling to drag the snot back in your face, tears ruining any semblance of make-up you applied however hapazardly, struggling to catch your breath tears.

He pulled me in with the one about the girl and boy that was made into a movie with Ryan Gosling and from that point I searched out averything I could find by this man.

After the, I don’t remember, tenth?, book, my darling put his foot down.  I was not allowed to read books I knew would make me cry.  Especially this author’s books, being so adept at doing so.

I catch myself at the bookstore when a new novel arrives, then wander away, to something less heart breaking.
Goodbye Nicholas Sparks, it was lovely to read your work.

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