... Nicholas Sparks books and Movies. I just hate them. I despise his smarmy, clammy, treacly bullshit. Down with A Walk to Remember, down with The Last Song, and, yes, down with the fucking Notebook. He writes sensitive manly books about sensitive manly men having sensitive manly feelings. Not romance. He literally has a section of his website FAQs devoted to the difference between "love stories" and "romance novels."
Call me boring, but I think real love isn't tear-stained kisses under the Spanish moss—it's about switching to turkey bacon because of your husband's cholesterol and cleaning the litter box for a cat you despise because your wife's pregnant and she loves that furry little asshole.