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Everywhere we look we see scandals in every area of life. There are no shortages of scandals. And as we look at 2023, while there are no shortages of scandals, we do see a shortage of grace. People simply tear each other to pieces in the comment section of social media. I want the Scandalous Grace Podcast to flip the script. On the pod, we will talk about stories of Scandalous Grace. Stories where people have offered scandalous grace to others, and people who have received scandalous grace. Hopefully, as you listen to these stories that you might identify with, you find hope. Welcome!

They call him The Mute for a reason. Hard, cold, and calculated, he rarely speaks. When he does, it's with disdain. When he does, his words aren't meant for me. When he does, my stomach flips and my world tilts on its axis. He is 33. I am 18. He's a single dad and my father's business partner. I'm just a kid to him and his enemy's daughter. He's emotionally unavailable. And I am...feeling. Feeling things I shouldn't feel for him. Trent Rexroth is going to break my heart. The writing isn't just on the wall, it's inked on my soul.

As much as Beatrice Hyde-Clare relished the challenge of figuring out who murdered a fellow guest during a house party in the Lake District, she certainly does not consider herself an amateur investigator. So when a London dandy falls dead at her feet in the entryway of a London Daily Gazette, she feels no compulsion to investigate. It was a newspaper office, after all, and reporters are already on the case as are the authorities.

I've been dreading this for a year. Okay, that's a lie. I've been dreading this reunion since we graduated high school 10 years ago. So why am I here, standing outside the door like the eternal wallflower I am? I'd say it's because my younger sister browbeat me into it, but the truth is, I'm tired of being a nobody. Of never taking a risk with myself and my life. And...well...maybe I'm also hoping to see him. The tall, insanely gorgeous man walking my way now. Oliver Fritz is regarded as one of Boston's sexiest doctors. I know him as the former god of our school.

One trip down the stairs, caused by a lone Lego, while wrapped in a towel, spewing a plethora of profanities, and my cell phone went flying. I landed on my a--, and then the ER. Between those two occurrences was a FaceTime call, placed by a bouncing phone, to the number of a man I didn’t even truly look at, who had now seen more of my body than anyone had since my Tinder days, over a year ago. Three declined calls later, I limped out the door to get myself to the ER before starting my hectic day.