Read Star Carol for Celeste for Free Online Page A

we are surprised, even astonished by what we hear. Just we are today . I think it safe to say that our lives would be in danger if we didn’t do the obvious and right thing, and award, and deservedly so, the first place prize to Saint Alban’s Children’s Choir and the Hope House String Quintet.”
    The crowd roared its approval once again. The children remembered they were children and jumped up and down on the risers, hugging each other and cheering, while the quintet slapped each other on the back and shook hands.
    And then as the applause began to fade, Celeste asked, “Do you remember that question you asked me to think about?”
    Micah’s heart punched against his ribs. “You mean about asking you to marry me?”
    “Yes. I’ve thought about it.”
    Hardly daring to breathe, Micah whispered, “And?”
    Her smile as she turned to him held all the promise of tomorrows to come. “What do you say to a Christmas wedding, my love?”
    Micah let out whoop that rang against the rafters. “She said, yes, everyone!” he shouted. “She said yes !”
    The kiss he planted on her lips left the crowd in no doubt of the question he had asked her, and they cheered and whistled again. The children began a mad dance around them, while “the lads” immediately began to play Hallelujah from Handel’s Messiah .
    But Micah and Celeste, wrapped in their kiss—one that needed no mistletoe—didn’t even notice.

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    If you enjoyed The Comet that Came for Christmas please check out Karen Hall’s other Historical Christmas story The A Christmas Proposal:
    A Christmas Proposal
    London December 1897
    “You said no to a proposal from Viscount Ramsfield’s son?” Great aunt Tilda Mason’s shrieked words rivaled a banshee’s cry. “Quick, Hildegarde. My smelling salts!”
    From her place by the fire, Cassandra Barnwell watched the lady’s maid rush forward, the ever-ready bottle of Crayfield’s smelling salts in her hand. It was a great pity Cassandra had never invested in Crayfield’s. With the number of times her great aunt called for them each day, Cassandra’s fortune would be twice as large at it was.
    Of course if Aunt Tilda would just loosen her stays and get more exercise, her old friend the vapors would probably leave on a permanent holiday.
    “There, there, ma’am,” Hildegarde soothed, waving the bottle below Aunt Tilda’s nose. “You’ll soon be as right as rain.”
    “I’ll probably die from palpitations by tomorrow,” Aunt Tilda wailed. “Tell me why, Cassandra. Why did you say no?”
    Feeling like a Jane Austen heroine, Cassandra said, “Because in spite of being a Viscount’s son, Edward Ramsfield has nothing else to recommend him. He is quite opposed to women winning the vote and said if suffragists had husbands and homes to attend to, they would give up the notion of voting. Ergo, my refusal.”
    “Mercy, you didn’t try to speak Latin to him?” Aunt Tilda clutched at her lace-covered bosom.
    “If I had, I doubt he’d have understood a word of it,” Cassandra said matter-of-factly. “Edward Ramsfield may be a Viscount’s son, but he’s a perfect