It seems my book life is all about anticipation atm: Mortal Fire next week and in October....BRIDGET JONES baby!!!!!
Today her publishers Random House have revealed the title to the third instalment - Bridget Jones: Mad About The Boy.

I also very vividly recall the fate of my first copies of the Bridget Jones books - stolen by a swindling flatmate, along with my first Black Caps shirt and four weeks rent and bills money. Still trying to let that go....
Plus, as if revealing the title today wasn't enough, her publishers have revealed a tantilising little morsel from the book iteself:
11.27 p.m. Just presss d SEND. Iss fineisn't it?
You see, this is the trouble with the modern world. If it was the days of letter-writing, I would never even have started to find his address, a pen, a piece of paper, an envelope, a stamp, and gone outside at 11.30p.m. to find a postbox. A text is gone at the brush of a fingertip, like a nuclear bomb or exocet missile.
Will Bridget be as awesome 14 years down the track? (The exert above to me says YES!) Will I, who hasn't read more than the very occasional chick lit in the last seven years, still love her? Will she still be tossing up between Cleaver and Darcy? Who exactly is the boy the title says she's mad about?
Eeeeeeeee. So. Much. Excitement!
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