wallbangers

I’ve always thought of books as near-sacred things.  Don’t write in them, use highlighters, don’t dog-ear.

So something about that book really has to chap my hide for me to toss it against a wall.
It happens very rarely, but I’m ashamed to say it has happened.

A couple of examples?

A romance novel (re-issue, to be fair) in which the very sympathetic heroine spends the entire book wondering, doubting, second-guessing about whether the hero has any feelings for her.  His fiery, intense gazes, occasional grunts, and brooding silences left her wondering until the very end.  It left me wondering too, since I read all the way through, waiting for a sign, a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter—SOMETHING—from his pov. 
THERE WERE NONE. :no:

BAM!!! :diebastard:

Another?  An erotic romance.  Well-written, even had a bit of mystery with it.  My only problem?  The heroine diddled every man in that small town before she finally got to the hero—and suddenly decided it was love.  I am NOT exaggerating.  And don’t get me wrong.  I’ve written a menage myself, and one of my current heroines has an adventure or two with other men.
BUT EVERY MAN IN TOWN?! :hump:

BAM!!! :diebastard:

So let’s hear it.  No author’s or character’s names, please, let’s play nice.
Have you ever really done the wallbanging thing?  If so, what brought it on?