How Does 'The Second Mountain' Compare To David Brooks' Other Works?

A plane crash tore my husband and his twin brother apart. One survived. One did not. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my brother-in-law, who had just survived the crash, locked in a passionate kiss with his wife. My husband? He lay lifeless in the morgue. Blinded by grief, I stumbled down the stairs…and lost the child I had spent three years longing for. Three years passed. Just as I was finally learning to breathe without him, I overheard a conversation between his closest friend and my brother-in-law: "How long do you plan to keep pretending to be your brother? Alicia is your legal wife." He adjusted his glasses, voice icy and distant. "I swore to my brother I'd protect Emily for the rest of my life. I am him now. As for Alicia… let her be the debt I carry into my next life." That's when I learned the truth. It was the brother-in-law who died in the crash. My husband, the man I had mourned all those years, had taken on his brother's identity to stay by Emily's side, the unattainable woman he had always secretly loved. So then what about me? The woman clinging to old memories, living in torture for three years. What was I to him?

I was born just one minute after Tiara, but the world treated that one minute as if it lasted a lifetime. She was the star. I was the shadow. She was flawless. I was the afterthought. She was loved. I was forgotten. Even by Reagan de Russo, heir to the wealthiest family in the country and the man I had secretly loved for the past ten years. But to him, there was only Tiara. And when he proposed to her, I knew my quiet little dream had finally died. Until that day came. The day Tiara left him at the altar. The day the world stopped turning for just a second. The day the man who had never even glanced my way, turned to me and asked me to take her place. I knew what I was. An escape. A damage control. A backup plan. And I... I was too tired of being strong. So I said yes. We married. Without love. Without a future. Just a one-year contract and a life of make-believe in front of flashing cameras and watching eyes. But the longer I stayed by his side, the harder it became to tell what was real and what was just part of the performance. Because for the first time... Reagan saw me. But can love truly grow from the ruins of lies, old wounds, and the shadow of a woman who’s always been his first choice? Or will I always be… only the second best?

The last thing Valentina Serra sees before she dies is the crack in the ceiling above her bed. She is 45 years old. She is not unhappy. That, she realizes in the last seconds of her first life, is the most devastating thing she could say about it. She opens her eyes in a university lecture hall in Barcelona. She is 20 years old. Her notebook is open, her pen is in her hand, and she can feel — with the precision of someone who has lived an entire life — exactly how much she is about to waste if she does nothing. She does something. Armed with 25 years of memory, Valentina sets out to close every loop she left open: the military commission she dismissed, the marketing career she let others architect for her, the relationship she stayed in long past its expiry date, and the mother she visited but never truly knew. One by one, she reaches for the life she talked herself out of the first time around. But the two people closest to her — the friends who have always been there, always supportive, always first to suggest the safer, smaller option — are watching. And when Valentina begins exceeding the quiet ceiling that they built for her, Isabel and David begin to coordinate. Then there is Ethan Cole. Washington D.C. Investment sector. Five years younger, which bothered her the first time. He will walk into her life again in Barcelona, and this time Valentina already knows what the long dinner and the careful conversation and the late-night walk along the Passeig de Gràcia will mean — if she doesn't talk herself out of it. She is not going to talk herself out of it.

Filled with action, thrills, sexy love scenes, and gripping drama, Wolf Mountain (book 2 of the dark fantasy romance trilogy) will pull on your emotions while it continues the story where "a Wolf Affair" left off. Love becomes confused when a handsome, magical being is brought in to assist Missy in getting in touch with her inherent magic. As her magic comes forth, so do secrets Kenton and Maryanne would rather stay hidden. New love arrives in the form of a hot and sexy fairy who is reluctant to tell Missy all there is to tell. As a result, her life is changed forever.

Ten years ago, Eli Voss left Cedarwood Falls without a word — without an explanation, without looking back. Now he's back to restore a crumbling Victorian inn, and the only contractor available is the one person he never stopped thinking about. Noah Callahan spent ten years building walls under his easy smile. He's fine. He's moved on. He just needs to get through six weeks of working side by side with the man who shattered him at eighteen — without letting it happen again. The problem is, Cedarwood Falls is a small town. The inn needs both of them. And the distance Eli keeps trying to maintain keeps shrinking. Some things don't stay buried. Some feelings don't care how many years you put between them. And some men fall harder the second time.

A blizzard had buried the mountain, turning every road into a death trap. Locals called it Deadman's Pass—seventy-two icy switchbacks with zero room for error. As the only person who had ever made it through without a scratch, I'd just gotten a million-dollar rescue call from beyond the final curve. Ten years ago, I went there once. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was skydiving with her classmates when a violent air current forced an emergency landing. The rescue came too late. She died there. Later, I learned my husband, Jayden Boone, had ignored Maya's safety. He poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into the rescue effort and redirected every team to save his ex's daughter instead. The girl had only sprained her ankle on a hiking trip. The day Maya died, I walked away from my career as a professor and stayed here, living as a broke driver. I risked my life running Deadman's Pass again and again until I knew every turn by heart. In the ten years since, no one else had died on that road. Today, a friend shoved a million-dollar rescue job in front of me and told me to leave right away. I looked at the face in the photo—the one I could never forget. Then I smiled and tossed my keys onto the table. "I can't take this job."