Robert Leighton. 
I’m the impeccably-dressed young legal executive who arrives in town in my Saab to scout out locations for the new law office I’m starting. Little do I realise what I’m getting into…
You are the richest man in town’s manservant, simply called “Douglas.” You dress impecably, stand stiff, know everything, and reveal nothing. Your favorite phrase is “If I may say so, sir…” You are always right outside the room, and never seem to take any time off.
If you say so, ma’am. :rolleyes:
Goes off to bang the maid.
You are a cruel, sick bastard. I worship you.
Russell Liberty. Although I am the heir to a shipping magnate’s fortune, I became disenchanted with the ‘spend money and live fast’ life my peers all have. I joined the Peace Corps because I wanted to make life better for people. After an injury I returned home and became involved with enviromental terrorist types and have only avoided jail because of my family’s connections.
Shannon Woburn.
I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not. scratches head
You forgot to mention that Tyson (who was born 9 years ago IRL time) is always out with his gang, Britney (born 5 years ago) is usually at her best friend’s house, and Jaidyn (born last year) is only in the room to say something cute and leave, whereupon she spends the rest of her time taking a nap.
You haven’t seen either of your two older children in three years and wouldn’t know them if you saw them. BTW, in another 3 years you’ll be a grandma when 15 year old Britney gives birth.
Laverne Herbert.
(shudders)
perfect soap opera sleaze 
James Cwmdare?
Dunno what to make of that. Sounds like some random sheep-molester doing a walk-on part in Emmerdale.
But you already are! OK, granted we aren’t that influential. Yet.
I’m going to cheat and pick a different childhood street, since I used up Haven already: Ann York. I live in a brick mansion with a garden of white roses.
Michael Boynton. I’m…some guy. I…do stuff.
I dunno. It just doesn’t conjure up anything that interesting. I’d probably show up, date some starlet for an episode or two, and then die just so she can work the whole distress angle and hook up with one of the majors.
I think you’re the cousin who may have had a hand in bankrupting my ranch. Hmmm… now… do I seduce you to find evidence, or hire a hit man? We got any hit men in this thread?
Michael Boynton, the guy who, um, er, does stuff
Elliott Van Buren. Desendent of the president and the leading attorney in town that specializes in divorce cases. I have a knack for consoling the soon to be divorce ladies, it usually involves a trip to the local Motel 6.
Wow, that’s good. Can you do mine?
All my [del]children[/del] decades of watching soaps finally becomes useful on the SDMB!
Carol Jackson–A pretty blonde lawyer who comes to town and sets up practice handing the other side of divorce cases. You square off against Elliot Van Buren in a few cases, and end up at the local Motel 6 with him for one passionate afternoon. You get pregnant, but realize it could never work out with Elliot, so you leave town with telling Elliot, who has just gotten engaged to a very wealthy divorcee.
3 years later, Elliot’s wife bumps into you and your twins. You tell her they are Elliott’s and try to blackmail her. She in turn tells Elliott and he claims you are in unfit mother and sues you for custody. Elliot’s wife goes after you with a gun, but you end up shooting her accidentally and killing her. You go to jail and Elliot gets the twins. He refers you to top crime attorney James Cwmdare, who gets you off and you fall madly in love with James, take the children (Eliot never wanted them, he was only doing it for his wife), and leave town.
without telling Elliot.
In two senses of the phrase, obviously.
Sunspace: You could be the real-life twin brother of Roberta Leighton, who’s appeared on several soaps.
As for me, I’m Lawrence Warwick. My aristocratic British family has largely pissed away its fortune through a series of bad investments and payoffs to women impregnated out of wedlock, so I’ve come to this (presumably) American town with the goal of using my charming upper-crust accent and impeccable manners to impress the local citizens who are of the fair sex. I figure that vague mentions of (nonexistent) property I’ll eventually inherit on Tristan da Cunha or Pitcairn Island “once the red tape is all cut and the proper papers are filed” will be enough to get a gullible damsel to put me up in her home as she awaits our eventual escape to a “romantic” ocean outpost.
I am Carol Hazelhurst. Maybe I own a multi-billion dollar lipstick company or something? I imagine I have really big hair.