Business As Usual is the first novel in the Georgie Connelly stories and the first full length novel completed by E.L. Lindley. It was borne out of the character of Georgie, who is a hybrid of all the amazing women that E.L has known during her life. Hopefully she is a character who both women and men alike will take to their hearts.
Synopsis
Documentary film maker, Georgie Connelly, wonders if her life can get any worse when, after a misunderstanding, she is arrested and forced to do community service. The answer comes back a resounding yes, as she is stalked by a vengeful white supremacist whose hate crimes she exposed in a previous documentary, whilst becoming embroiled in the seedy world of Maxim Petrov, a Russian gangster and the subject of her current project. As Georgie ricochets from one disaster to another, her boss hires his old friend, James Finn to keep an eye on her. Sparks fly as they find themselves caught in a web of corruption
that involves prostitution and people trafficking. As Georgie attempts to expose Petrov, she realises too late that he is a deadly enemy and the price of taking him on threatens to cost her everything.
A thrilling crime novel, introducing Georgie Connelly a feisty protagonist along with a cast of loyal and likeable characters who surround her. If you enjoy novels that have heart and humour why not give it a try?
Read the first chapter here and let Georgie snare you into her wild and often hilarious adventures.
CHAPTER ONE
Thirty pairs of eyes bored into her as the terrible realization sank home. This was her life now for the next six weeks. Every Tuesday she would have to drag herself out of bed at some God awful hour to present herself at Ingram Community High School, in order to repay society for her transgressions.
Georgina Connelly had been found guilty by the Los Angeles judicial system of being drunk and disorderly and attempting to drive under the influence of alcohol. To make matters worse she had resisted arrest and verbally abused the arresting
officers. To Georgie this was utterly ridiculous, she had been drunk, fair enough. But attempting to drive! There were not many things she hated more than driving - in fact there were none at all. She didn’t even own a car. The fact was she had been getting into her assistant Danny’s car in order to retrieve a file she would need for the next day.
Georgie and her crew had wrapped up filming on their latest documentary venture and had wanted to celebrate. Little had she known that the day would end up with her being thrown into a cell and subsequently tried and convicted, which brought her here
to Ingram Community High. Georgie was a documentary film maker and the judge had decided her talents could be put to use amongst disaffected students with little exposure to the media, except maybe to be exploited by it.
Georgie straightened herself and pushed her chestnut hair behind her ear. The unwieldy waves immediately sprang back, causing a flash of irritation to cross her face. She knew that everything depended upon appearances, if she did not want to get
eaten alive by the group of mostly young men in front of her. With that thought foremost in her mind, she was dressed in a black Prada pant suit, which had been hanging at the back of her closet since its only outing at an awards ceremony. The suit was coupled with a crisp white shirt, which, to the ragged bunch in front of her, created the image of a first class rich bitch.
Georgie did her best to stare the boys down as she made the introductions.
“Good morning, my name is Ms Georgina Connelly and I will be working with you on Tuesdays for the next six weeks. I hope to introduce you to some of the concepts used in the world of media.” There was a momentary stunned silence as the group processed first the accent and then the words. Georgie was English and for most of the group it was the first time they had heard any voice out of their own Los Angeles’ neighborhood. The pause was only momentary however.
"Who the fuck are you?” a tall, well built boy demanded from the back of the room. Georgie returned his icy stare, feeling stirrings of unease and anger that resonated back to eight years earlier, when she had turned her back on teaching at an
inner city London school. She never imagined she would be in a situation like this again.
The anger bubbled up as she continued to stare at the equally angry youth.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted … My name is Georgina Connelly, I work in the documentary film industry and I am here to work with you …”
“Do you make pornos?” shouted out another of the spotty, dead eyed boys. Georgie glanced at the regular teacher, some ageing hippy type, who probably thought all these kids had untapped genius, and caught a slight smirk grace the corner of his lips. Great, she thought, I am totally on my own here.
She stood up tall, hands placed low down on her hips, her voice dripping with contempt.
“I will be here for the next six weeks. I will provide expertise and equipment. If you have anything remotely resembling intelligence you will see this for the opportunity it is. If, however, you are as moronic as some of you appear to be on first impression, you will squander this opportunity and carry on with your impoverished, unfulfilled and frankly worthless lives.”Georgie was feeling quite empowered as she was on a roll but the realization that she had gone too far was sudden, not just from the wave of antagonism and jeers from the group but from the look of appalled horror on the hippy teacher’s face.
“Ms Connelly, may I speak to you outside for a moment please?” Georgie followed the balding, corduroy clad teacher out of the room, her stomach churning at the thought of what was to come. Once outside, she desperately sought to recall his name in an
attempt at appeasement.
"Mr. Johnson, I really am …”
“Jackson.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Mr. Jackson.” Georgie cringed.
“Right. Sorry. Mr. Jackson - I am really sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. I think it must have been stress.” Mr. Jackson sighed deeply as he slowly removed his glasses and began to clean them with a cotton handkerchief. Georgie fixated on the handkerchief unable to comprehend why anyone would bother when tissues were so much more hygienic.
“I was led to understand, Ms Connelly that you had some background as an educator and as such one would have thought you might appreciate how alienated those young people already are. One would have thought you would realize how your words, tone and quite frankly demeanor would only serve to alienate them even further.”
Georgie’s heart sank as the educator before her pontificated, his spittle landing lightly on her cheek as he worked himself up. She tried not to show revulsion on her face.
“Mr. Jackson!” She interrupted him firmly, “I really am sorry, can we give it another go?”
“I don’t know if it will be so easy,” Mr. Jackson lamented. “Do you know how betrayed those children feel by the school, by the system and now you?”
Dear God, she thought, as she responded with, “Please, Mr. Jackson, let’s give it another go,” edging back towards the door.
They re-entered the room to complete bedlam, with stationary and paper strewn everywhere. The noise level was unbearable.
“People, people …” bellowed Mr. Jackson semi-effectively. In the ensuing lull, Georgie intervened.
“I will be available to work with anyone interested in media. If you are, please join me in the far corner for a preliminary chat.” The few students, who had paused to listen, immediately resumed their previous conversations with total disinterest.
Georgie moved to the corner of the room as Mr. Jackson tried to get the group back on side. She sat rooting in her bag for a notebook in which to record non-existent names. Straightening, she was surprised to see she had been joined by four kids and as they pulled chairs into a little huddle, she prepared to take names. She appraised the group trying to summon up some enthusiasm for the venture before her. There was an Indian boy, Siraj Patel, who was slight, bespectacled and very earnest looking. He obviously saw the media project as a source of some respite from the hell that was his normal classroom routine. Two girls, Brandy and Terri, who looked as though they didn’t possess a brain cell between them and appeared to be totally interchangeable. Georgie knew she would struggle to distinguish between the two. Finally, the surprise as far as Georgie was
concerned, Josh Stanley, who for all intents and purposes looked like a normal teenager. On closer inspection, Georgie decided he might actually have something about him, despite his floppy long hair, which hid most of his face and the oversized clothes that made him melt into the rest of the teenage population.
Synopsis
Documentary film maker, Georgie Connelly, wonders if her life can get any worse when, after a misunderstanding, she is arrested and forced to do community service. The answer comes back a resounding yes, as she is stalked by a vengeful white supremacist whose hate crimes she exposed in a previous documentary, whilst becoming embroiled in the seedy world of Maxim Petrov, a Russian gangster and the subject of her current project. As Georgie ricochets from one disaster to another, her boss hires his old friend, James Finn to keep an eye on her. Sparks fly as they find themselves caught in a web of corruption
that involves prostitution and people trafficking. As Georgie attempts to expose Petrov, she realises too late that he is a deadly enemy and the price of taking him on threatens to cost her everything.
A thrilling crime novel, introducing Georgie Connelly a feisty protagonist along with a cast of loyal and likeable characters who surround her. If you enjoy novels that have heart and humour why not give it a try?
Read the first chapter here and let Georgie snare you into her wild and often hilarious adventures.
CHAPTER ONE
Thirty pairs of eyes bored into her as the terrible realization sank home. This was her life now for the next six weeks. Every Tuesday she would have to drag herself out of bed at some God awful hour to present herself at Ingram Community High School, in order to repay society for her transgressions.
Georgina Connelly had been found guilty by the Los Angeles judicial system of being drunk and disorderly and attempting to drive under the influence of alcohol. To make matters worse she had resisted arrest and verbally abused the arresting
officers. To Georgie this was utterly ridiculous, she had been drunk, fair enough. But attempting to drive! There were not many things she hated more than driving - in fact there were none at all. She didn’t even own a car. The fact was she had been getting into her assistant Danny’s car in order to retrieve a file she would need for the next day.
Georgie and her crew had wrapped up filming on their latest documentary venture and had wanted to celebrate. Little had she known that the day would end up with her being thrown into a cell and subsequently tried and convicted, which brought her here
to Ingram Community High. Georgie was a documentary film maker and the judge had decided her talents could be put to use amongst disaffected students with little exposure to the media, except maybe to be exploited by it.
Georgie straightened herself and pushed her chestnut hair behind her ear. The unwieldy waves immediately sprang back, causing a flash of irritation to cross her face. She knew that everything depended upon appearances, if she did not want to get
eaten alive by the group of mostly young men in front of her. With that thought foremost in her mind, she was dressed in a black Prada pant suit, which had been hanging at the back of her closet since its only outing at an awards ceremony. The suit was coupled with a crisp white shirt, which, to the ragged bunch in front of her, created the image of a first class rich bitch.
Georgie did her best to stare the boys down as she made the introductions.
“Good morning, my name is Ms Georgina Connelly and I will be working with you on Tuesdays for the next six weeks. I hope to introduce you to some of the concepts used in the world of media.” There was a momentary stunned silence as the group processed first the accent and then the words. Georgie was English and for most of the group it was the first time they had heard any voice out of their own Los Angeles’ neighborhood. The pause was only momentary however.
"Who the fuck are you?” a tall, well built boy demanded from the back of the room. Georgie returned his icy stare, feeling stirrings of unease and anger that resonated back to eight years earlier, when she had turned her back on teaching at an
inner city London school. She never imagined she would be in a situation like this again.
The anger bubbled up as she continued to stare at the equally angry youth.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted … My name is Georgina Connelly, I work in the documentary film industry and I am here to work with you …”
“Do you make pornos?” shouted out another of the spotty, dead eyed boys. Georgie glanced at the regular teacher, some ageing hippy type, who probably thought all these kids had untapped genius, and caught a slight smirk grace the corner of his lips. Great, she thought, I am totally on my own here.
She stood up tall, hands placed low down on her hips, her voice dripping with contempt.
“I will be here for the next six weeks. I will provide expertise and equipment. If you have anything remotely resembling intelligence you will see this for the opportunity it is. If, however, you are as moronic as some of you appear to be on first impression, you will squander this opportunity and carry on with your impoverished, unfulfilled and frankly worthless lives.”Georgie was feeling quite empowered as she was on a roll but the realization that she had gone too far was sudden, not just from the wave of antagonism and jeers from the group but from the look of appalled horror on the hippy teacher’s face.
“Ms Connelly, may I speak to you outside for a moment please?” Georgie followed the balding, corduroy clad teacher out of the room, her stomach churning at the thought of what was to come. Once outside, she desperately sought to recall his name in an
attempt at appeasement.
"Mr. Johnson, I really am …”
“Jackson.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Mr. Jackson.” Georgie cringed.
“Right. Sorry. Mr. Jackson - I am really sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. I think it must have been stress.” Mr. Jackson sighed deeply as he slowly removed his glasses and began to clean them with a cotton handkerchief. Georgie fixated on the handkerchief unable to comprehend why anyone would bother when tissues were so much more hygienic.
“I was led to understand, Ms Connelly that you had some background as an educator and as such one would have thought you might appreciate how alienated those young people already are. One would have thought you would realize how your words, tone and quite frankly demeanor would only serve to alienate them even further.”
Georgie’s heart sank as the educator before her pontificated, his spittle landing lightly on her cheek as he worked himself up. She tried not to show revulsion on her face.
“Mr. Jackson!” She interrupted him firmly, “I really am sorry, can we give it another go?”
“I don’t know if it will be so easy,” Mr. Jackson lamented. “Do you know how betrayed those children feel by the school, by the system and now you?”
Dear God, she thought, as she responded with, “Please, Mr. Jackson, let’s give it another go,” edging back towards the door.
They re-entered the room to complete bedlam, with stationary and paper strewn everywhere. The noise level was unbearable.
“People, people …” bellowed Mr. Jackson semi-effectively. In the ensuing lull, Georgie intervened.
“I will be available to work with anyone interested in media. If you are, please join me in the far corner for a preliminary chat.” The few students, who had paused to listen, immediately resumed their previous conversations with total disinterest.
Georgie moved to the corner of the room as Mr. Jackson tried to get the group back on side. She sat rooting in her bag for a notebook in which to record non-existent names. Straightening, she was surprised to see she had been joined by four kids and as they pulled chairs into a little huddle, she prepared to take names. She appraised the group trying to summon up some enthusiasm for the venture before her. There was an Indian boy, Siraj Patel, who was slight, bespectacled and very earnest looking. He obviously saw the media project as a source of some respite from the hell that was his normal classroom routine. Two girls, Brandy and Terri, who looked as though they didn’t possess a brain cell between them and appeared to be totally interchangeable. Georgie knew she would struggle to distinguish between the two. Finally, the surprise as far as Georgie was
concerned, Josh Stanley, who for all intents and purposes looked like a normal teenager. On closer inspection, Georgie decided he might actually have something about him, despite his floppy long hair, which hid most of his face and the oversized clothes that made him melt into the rest of the teenage population.