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Textbook Big Bearded and Brilliant Spring S Mountain Men 1St Edition Kat Baxter Ebook All Chapter PDF
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BIG, BEARDED AND
BRILLIANT
KAT BAXTER
Big, Bearded and Brilliant
Kat Baxter
Copyright 2021 by Kat Baxter
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not
to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events,
locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
With regard to digital publication, be advised that any alteration of font size or
spacing by the reader could change the author’s original format.
Created with Vellum
BIG, BEARDED AND BRILLIANT
Molly
Jefferson
I put my phone on the sofa next me, and then scrub a hand down
my face. Then Molly comes back into the room. She’s all awkward
smiles and curves and she actually waves at me as she sits on the
other side of the sectional.
“What’s your name?”
I debate a moment before answering. It’s unlikely she’ll
recognize me by my face. I look different. And it’s been more than
three years since I was on the cover of any magazines. Not only
that, but I never use my full name.
“Jefferson,” I say.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jefferson.” Her smile falters as her blush
deepens. “Um, I’m sorry that I hit you with my car.”
It takes everything I have not to smile at the earnestness in her
apology. I might be a cranky motherfucker, but I’d have to be dead
not to recognize that this woman is adorable.
“What are you doing up here?” I find myself asking.
She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. She’s got on leggings and a red v-
neck top that’s cinched tight under her breasts and loose and flowy
everywhere else. The shirt plus the shrugging action does amazing
things for her tits. Which are amazing enough without needing the
help. “Just a little mini-vacation.”
“Alone?”
Her chin tilts ever so slightly. “You’re alone.”
“There’s a difference between living alone and traveling alone.
Plus, you’re a tiny woman.”
She snorts. Yep, that’s adorable too, which frankly is annoying. I
don’t find things adorable. Except for puppies because you have to
be dead inside to not love puppies.
She crosses her arms over her chest which only serves in
plumping her breasts. “I am not tiny.”
I raise a brow.
She scoffs. “Well, of course I’m smaller compared to you because
you’re enormous.” Her head tilts. “How tall are you?”
“Just under six foot six.”
“I didn’t realize they grew them that big here in Arkansas.”
“Not from here.”
“Where did you grow up?” she asks.
“Austin.”
“Texas?” Her smile lights up the whole damn room. “I’m from
Texas, too. Not Austin though. My family is from west Texas.”
I just nod because I fucking hate small talk. I glance behind me
at the stairs leading up to my bedroom and office. I need to get in
my office and work or at the very least get my laptop.
Molly’s phone pings and she picks it up to look at it and smiles.
“My sister,” she says. Then she sets down her phone. “You know
what’s weird? I was expecting the service to be terrible up here, but
my signal is amazing. Like better than what I get a lot of places at
home.”
I just nod because I’m not going to tell her about the Sky Link
router that keeps my network connected to the satellite and
therefore to the rest of the world.
“You keep looking up the stairs. You don’t have your crazy wife
locked in an attic up there, do you?” Then she laughs at her own
joke.
I just stare at her.
Her giggles stop and her smile disappears. “Do you?” she
whispers.
“Are you comparing me to Mr. Rochester?”
That wins me a huge smile that seems to punch me right in the
gut. “You’ve read Jane Eyre.”
I lift a shoulder. “My mom worked in a library growing up. I read
a lot.”
“Your mom was a librarian?”
I shake my head. “Night custodian.”
Her eyes soften. “And you’d go to work with her and read while
she cleaned? That’s so sweet.”
I didn’t think it was sweet at the time. But it wasn’t the worst
way to spend my childhood.
“So what are you hiding upstairs?” she asks.
“Nothing. I just have work to do and my bedroom is up there.”
“I can help you up the stairs. Or I can go up there and get
whatever you need.”
“No!” I say more forcefully than I need to. “Don’t go upstairs.”
“Ooookay.”
“I need to go upstairs,” I mutter.
“I can help you.” She stands.
“No, thank you. It can wait.”
“Don’t be silly. What do you need? If you’re soooo afraid of me
going up stairs.” She draws out the word “so” as if to imply I’m
being ridiculous.
I’m not, by the way.
“What are you afraid of? Assuming you don’t have that crazy wife
locked in your attic. Do you think I’m going to get cooties all over
your stuff?”
“Of course not,” I grunt.
She rolls her eyes. “Then what?”
Then what, indeed?
There are three rooms upstairs. My bedroom. My gaming room—
because even though I live like a recluse, I still need something to
do on my down time. And my office—where I have enough
computer power to run an NSA field office as well as a prototype of
Sky Link’s latest satellite.
I don’t have even have a lock on my office door. Since the only
person who ever comes to my cabin is my housekeeper, Marlena,
who has signed an NDA so tight she’d basically have to give me her
kidney if she ever broke it.
So, yeah, since I don’t have another one of those just lying
around for spontaneous guests to sign, I need to keep Molly away
from the second floor.
“Nothing,” I grumble. “I don’t need anything.”
“What?” she asks again. She hikes her eyebrows up. Then
narrows them shrewdly in an expression she obviously thinks is
scary. “You might as well tell me because I’m not going to let this
go. Tell me what you need and I’ll go get it for you. And I promise I
won’t dig around in any of your stuff. Cross my heart.”
She holds her fingers up in a heart shape and then traces an “x”
over her chest and—Christ—if I can’t help looking at her tits again.
“Fine,” I blurt. “I need an Advil.”
She blinks, then jumps up. “Jesus Christ on a cracker! Why didn’t
you say anything?”
“I just did.”
“I mean before now!” She looks genuinely distraught. “Oh my
God. I’m so sorry! Wait! I have Advil!”
“Okay.”
She hurries over to her bag, flops it down on its side and unzips
it. She digs through it and a moment later pops up, jiggling a bottle
of Advil like it’s a trophy. “Ta da!”
A moment later, she’s dumping Advil out into her palm.
She holds her hand out to me.
But before I can take it, she jerks her hand back.
“Wait a second.” She gives me the stink eye. “When was the last
time you ate?”
“I don’t know. Can I have the damn Advil?”
“Have you eaten in the past two hours?”
Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I ate. I was working in
my office all morning before I heard the crunch of tires on the
driveway and went out to see who the hell was at my house. “What
time is it now?”
She glances at her watch. “Three-ish.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Her gaze narrows more. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”
I am. I think I had breakfast, but I can’t be sure. And that was
probably around six.
She doesn’t wait for me to answer, but pours the Advil back in
the bottle.
“You need to eat first. Ibuprofen increases the production of
stomach acid, which can irritate the lining of your stomach and lead
to long term health problems. Ibuprofen is the generic name for—”
“I know what the fuck Ibuprofen is.”
“Okay, good.”
As if the matter is settled, she turns and walks away. Taking the
Advil with her.
“Where the hell are you going?”
She pauses and flashes me a smile. “To make you dinner,
obviously.”
What the hell has happened to my life?
CHAPTER 3
Molly
My skills in the kitchen are limited to ordering take out. Since I’m
pretty sure Uber Eats will not deliver to this location, I do a little light
reconnaissance in Jefferson’s pantry and pull out some pasta.
I find bacon, cheese, and eggs in his fridge. After briefly
entertaining a fantasy of dazzling Jefferson with my cooking skills—
after all, I have written for some cooking magazines and
theoretically I have a “fool-proof” recipe for carbonara on my phone
—I decide to settle for buttered noodles. Because who am I kidding?
Fool-proof does not equal Molly-proof.
I put some water in a pot—just eyeballing the pasta package’s
recommendation for two quarts of boiling water. Once I get that
going on the stove, I pull out my laptop and get it hooked up to my
personal hot spot. I check on Jefferson.
He growls when I swipe his ice pack.
“I still need that.”
I shake my head as I back away. “You can have it back in twenty
minutes. Most doctors recommend twenty minutes on and twenty
minutes off to reduce the risk of frost bite.”
His brow lowers to a scowl, though I swear I see his lips twitch.
“I’m not going to get frost bite.”
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Engineering
reminiscences contributed to "Power" and
"American machinist"
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.
Language: English
Machinist”
BY
CHARLES T. PORTER
Honorary Member of The American Society of Mechanical Engineers
A u t h o r o f “ A Tr e a t i s e o n t h e R i c h a r d s S t e a m - e n g i n e I n d i c a t o r
and the Development and Application of Force in the
Steam-engine,” 1874; “Mechanics and Faith,” 1885
FIRST THOUSAND
NEW YORK
JOHN WILEY & SONS
London: CHAPMAN & HALL, Limited
1908
Copyright 1908
BY
CHARLES T. PORTER
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO THE MEMORY OF
CHAPTER I
PAGE
Birth, Parentage and Education. Experience in the Practice
of Law. Introduction to Centrifugal Force. Invention and
Operation of a Stone-dressing Machine 1
CHAPTER II
The Evolution and Manufacture of the Central Counterpoise
Governor. Introduction of Mr. Richards 17
CHAPTER III
Invention and Application of my Marine Governor 34
CHAPTER IV
Engineering Conditions in 1860. I meet Mr. Allen. Mr. Allen’s
Inventions. Analysis of the Allen Link 42
CHAPTER V
Invention of the Richards Indicator. My Purchase of the
Patent. Plan my London Exhibition. Engine Design. Ship
Engine Bed to London, and sail myself 58
CHAPTER VI
Arrival in London. Conditions I found there. Preparations 65
and Start
CHAPTER VII
My London Exhibit, its Success, but what was the matter?
Remarkable Sale of the Engine 71
CHAPTER VIII
Sale of Governors. Visit from Mr. Allen. Operation of the
Engine Sold to Easton, Amos & Sons. Manufacture of the
Indicator. Application on Locomotives 80
CHAPTER IX
Designs of Horizontal Engine Beds. Engine Details.
Presentation of the Indicator at the Newcastle Meeting of
the British Association for the Advancement of Science 93
CHAPTER X
Contract with Ormerod, Grierson & Co. Engine for Evan
Leigh, Son & Co. Engine for the Oporto Exhibition.
Getting Home from Portugal 101
CHAPTER XI
Trouble with the Evan Leigh Engine. Gear Patterns from the
Whitworth Works. First Order for a Governor. Introduction
of the Governor into Cotton Mills. Invention of my
Condenser. Failure of Ormerod, Grierson & Co. 113
CHAPTER XII
Introduction to the Whitworth Works. Sketch of Mr.
Whitworth. Experience in the Whitworth Works. Our
Agreement Which was never Executed. First Engine in
England Transmitting Power by a Belt 122
CHAPTER XIII
The French Exposition of 1867. Final Break with Mr.
Whitworth 139
CHAPTER XIV
Study of the Action of Reciprocating Parts. Important Help
from Mr. Frederick J. Slade. Paper before Institution of
Mechanical Engineers. Appreciation of Zerah Colburn.
The Steam Fire Engine in England 153
CHAPTER XV
Preparations for Returning to America. Bright Prospects 165
CHAPTER XVI
Return to America. Disappointment. My Shop. The Colt
Armory Engine Designed by Mr. Richards. Appearance of
Mr. Goodfellow. My Surface Plate Work. Formation of a
Company 173
CHAPTER XVII
Mr. Allen’s Invention of his Boiler. Exhibition at the Fair of
the American Institute in 1870 190
CHAPTER XVIII
Demonstration to the Judges of Action of Reciprocating
Parts. Explanation of this Action. Mr. Williams’ Instrument
for Exhibiting this Action 198
CHAPTER XIX
Boiler Tests in Exhibition of 1871. We Lose Mr. Allen. 208
Importance of Having a Business Man as President.
Devotion of Mr. Hope
CHAPTER XX
Close of the Engine Manufacture in Harlem. My Occupation
During a Three Years’ Suspension 219
CHAPTER XXI
Production of an Original Surface Plate 233
CHAPTER XXII
Efforts to Resume the Manufacture. I Exhibit the Engine to
Mr. Holley. Contract with Mr. Phillips. Sale of Engine to
Mr. Peters 238
CHAPTER XXIII
Experience as Member of the Board of Judges at the
Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition 245
CHAPTER XXIV
Engine Building in Newark. Introduction of Harris Tabor 259
CHAPTER XXV
Engine for the Cambria Iron and Steel Company 271
CHAPTER XXVI
My Downward Progress 275
CHAPTER XXVII
My Last Connection with the Company 325
CHAPTER XXVIII
The Fall and Rise of the Southwark Foundry and Machine
Company. Popular Appreciation of the High-speed Engine 331