I think some of me is in each story I write, but it would be in bits and pieces, a little of this in one character, a little of that in another. The biggest part of me, that I hope shows up in my characters, at least by the end of the books, is my faith.
What is the quirkiest thing you have ever done?
I'm having a hard time coming up with an answer for this. My family would probably have no problem at all coming up with something. :-) Maybe-I can't go to bed at night until I've checked the burners on our gas stove, oh, several times—to make sure the gas is off. But it has an electirc lighter, so…there's probably no need…
When did you first discover that you were a writer?
I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was around twelve. But it wasn't until I was in my thirties that I knew I really was one.
Tell us the range of the kinds of books you enjoy reading.
I love romances, of course—that's what I write. But I also like family sagas and women's fiction. I love series. I read and write both historicals and contemporary and I read non-fiction.
How do you keep your sanity in our run, run, run world?
I look to the Lord to do that. And, actually, I think writing helps with it, also.
How do you choose your characters’ names?
Sometimes they just come to me, other times I use phone books, my character naming source book and baby name books. For historicals, I look online to the popular names in the years my story takes place.
What is the accomplishment that you are most proud of?
I think it's more of a blessing than an accomplishment that my stories have touched reader's hearts in ways that have brought them closer to the Lord.
If you were an animal, which one would you be, and why?
Probably a puppy. We have a new puppy at hour house and I am always struck by the way she loves us, they way she's happy with the affection we give her and how she gives it back double fold. She seems to know what it is like to be content in all circomstances.
What is your favorite food?
Mexican—mostly I like the kind I make the best. But after that I love Italian.
What is the problem with writing that was your greatest roadblock, and how did you overcome it?
I had seven deadlines in one year—in that timespan, I lost a good friend, a brother-in-law passed away, Katrina hit the area we lived in, my husband was retiring the next year. We decided as a family (my daughter and her family, too) to move back to Oklahoma to be close to the sister who's husband had passed away. She passed away three weeks after we moved here. It wasn't an easy year, to say the least. The only way to overcome the fear of not being able to meet my obligations was to turn to the Lord for help. As always, when we do that, He is ever faithful to come to our aide.
Tell us about the featured book?
BRIDES OF ARKANSAS is a three-in-one of my historical Arkansas series that takes place in Eureka Springs and Hot Springs, Arkansas from 1886 through1902. It is about two families and three women in them who overcome their own fears and grief to find true love.
In A LOVE FOR KEEPS, Meagan Snow helps to support her family by opening a dressmaking shop in Eureka Springs. When she enters Nate Brooks's office looking for a loan, he feels immediately drawn to her. Does their relationship have a chance, or will another woman's schemes bankrupt their love?
In A LOVE ALL HER OWN, Humiliated and bitter, Abigail Connors flees home, only to be investigatred by Marcus Wellington the minute she steps off the train in Hot Springs. Will Marcus uncover Abigail's true character—or will she turn out to be the manipulative woman he's heard about?
In A LOVE TO CHERISH, When her fiance died in her arms, Becca Snow vowed never to love again. Yet she can't help being attracted to her friend, Luke Monroe. Will Becca learn to trust the plans God has for her life, or will the man who killed her fiance murder her before she gets a chance to find out?
Can faith, love—and hope—spring eternal in the lives of these three couples?
Please give us the first page of the book.
Eureka Springs, Arkansas
Meagan Snow walked out of the bank, trying not to let her mother know how discouraged she felt. All she had to do was look at the older woman to see she felt the very same way, if not more so.
“Meagan, I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing this,” Elsie Snow said as they walked down Main Street to the third bank they would try that morning. “We’ve already been turned down by two different banks. We should probably just go on home.”
“Mama, I am not giving up until we have no choice.” She couldn’t. It had been one thing for her mother to take in wash to help ends meet since Papa died. Meagan and her sisters, Becca and Sarah, could help her with that. However, the fact that Mama felt she had to take a part-time job helping to get the newly built Crescent Hotel ready to open was more than Meagan could take. It was time, as the oldest daughter, to help more than she had been. The mending she took in wasn’t enough. God had blessed her with a talent, and she intended to put it to use to help provide for her family. She could do no less. If they were successful in getting a loan, her mother would be able to quit the hotel position before long.
They entered the Connors Bank and walked up to the receptionist. “Good morning. I’m Meagan Snow and this is my mother, Elsie. We’d like to see a loan officer, if possible,” she said.
The receptionist gave Meagan and then her mother an appraising look before answering, “I’ll see if Mr. Brooks has time to see you. Please take a seat right over there.” She pointed to several settees in what Meagan assumed was a waiting area.
“Thank you,” Meagan’s mother said. One settee had a cuspidor sitting to the side of it. Meagan and her mother chose the other one. The way Mama twisted her lace-trimmed hankie between her fingers told Meagan how nervous she was.
Meagan covered those fingers with her hand and squeezed.
How can readers find you on the Internet?
They can find me at http://www.janetleebarton.com/
And under Janet Lee Barton on Facebook, Twitter or Shoutlife
Thank you, Janet, for spending this time with us.
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