BLOG TOUR – Prince Ivan, A. Wolfe, & a Firebird by Eric Alan Westfall – #GuestPost #Excerpt #Giveaway


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🌟 Please join me in welcoming the always-fabulous Eric Alan Westfall to Stories That Make You Smile. I know he’s fab because I’ve been fortunate to meet and speak with Eric on several occasions 😁 … he’s truly awesome! Eric is joining me here today to celebrate the recent release of his amazing new long novel, Prince Ivan, A. Wolfe & A Firebird, which now sits firmly at the tippy top of my TBR. I know it’s amazing, because all of his stories are! 💖 I fully expect lots of laughs, because I’ve found that’s a given with Eric’s wonderful stories. Eric has brought along a lovely excerpt, a generous giveaway, and a guest post—his list of hilarious chapter titles! 🌟

Prince Ivan, A. Wolfe & A Firebird by Eric Alan Westfall

An M/M (and possibly M/M/M 😉) Russian Fairy Tale

Publisher: Eric Alan Westfall
Cover Artist: Karrie Jax
Release Date: September 7, 2020
Length: Long Novel / 166k words / 569 pages
Heat Rating: Erotic
Pairing / Genre: M/M & M/M/M Fantasy, fairy tale, Russian fairy tale, gay, magic, magick, shifter, queer, LGBTQ

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Dear Reader,

What do you get when you combine a greedy Great Tsar, his two cheating, bullying older sons, his youngest esser (shh! no saying that aloud) son, stolen gold apples, a Firebird quest, A. Wolfe who has the power t’assume a pleasing shape, a magickal sandstorm, as well as two bands and a full Symphony of Gipsumies?

A rollicking, roisterous Russian Fairy Tale, with vigorous esser activities in tents, halls, bedrooms and alcoves, with and without the assistance of PSTs. Plus princely parades, a duel over Gus, new lyrics to an old drinking song, and the possibility of bits of blood, gobs of gore or moments of mayhem. As required by CORA (the Code of RFT Authors), should these occur, your author will give you timely warning.

Ah. Still not ready to part with your kopek-equivalent? Consider the fun you’ll have reading chapters like:

“To Kvetch, Or Not To Kvetch? A Reader’s Choice”

“Ivan Has A Close Encounter Of The F-Word Kind”

“Second Direction Questers vs. The Caliph’s Sayer Of Sooths”

“Will Sasha Succeed In Seducing Prince Ivan?”

Bad Prince Ivan! No Touch Cage!”

“A Travel Pause For Gratuitous Sex In The Tent—Which Does Not Advance The Plot—At The Insistence Of The Characters”

“A Necessary Interlude To Consider The Age-Old Questing Question: What The [Expletive Of Your Choice, Dear Reader] Do We Do Next?”

If you buy it and try it, you’ll like it, or so says your most talen…er…humble author.

p.s. If Karrie Jax and I have covered you and blurbed you to buy, look for “Dear Reader, Along The Way, Did You Happen To See The Allusion To Olivier?” in the TOC. It’s a spot-the-allusions chance at gift cards of $25, $15, or $10.

166,000 words of story fun and frolic, plus a 2160-word teaser from another MM fairytale: The Tinderbox



“A wolf who talks,” Ivan said, his voice all full of surprise.

“I am not a wolf, Prince Ivan, I am A. Wolfe.”

Ivan lifted an eyebrow, in his long-perfected “inquiring princes want to know what you mean” mode, while wondering what effect it might have on such an enormous beast. Well, not a beast, exactly, since it could talk.

No reaction, except the bright gold eyes—so like one of his father’s apples, well-polished after plucking, or the gold circles in the Firebird’s tail—stared back, unblinking.

Since his eyebrow inquiry failed to a verbal response, it was Ivan’s turn to talk. Politeness had worked with the Firebird, when used in place of “I am royal, hear me roar” arrogance, and might be best for Ivan’s well-being in the current situation, conversing with a wolf, the top of whose head was above Gus’ shoulder.

“‘A wolf who talks,’” yes. My exact words, Sir Wolf.”

The wolf opened his mouth. Wide. No mere flash this time. Ivan was fully fanged. As they had only just met, he could not tell whether he was being fang-grinned for a reason he could not fathom, or fierce-fanged to frighten him. If it was the latter, there was a glimmer of starting-to-work happening.

But the wolf’s voice was neither fierce nor fun-filled when he hid most of his fangs and talked again. His tone was a goblet of great size, filled not just to the brim but overflowing—with more coming from somewhere so the over kept on flowing—with…patience. The kind of patience you use for, with, and on, those who are not very bright. Indeed, those who are so dim that if their brains were used to provide light for reading at night they’d be as effective as an inch-tall stub of a quarter-inch wide candle, set in a candlestick in the bowels of a cavern on the far side of a mountain range five-and-a-half eighths of a continent away.

“When you bathe, do you clean your ears, Prince Ivan?” [See above for how he said it.]


A sigh was heard.

Ivan wished he’d brought along a sigh that big, but then, since it was a large wolf letting it loose, accompanied by, Ivan was almost sure, a hint of a scent of pasta, pesto, garlic and butter, Ivan might not have been able to use it with the same effect. The sigh might almost have been designed to complement the show-patience-to-the-afflicted voice.

“Do. You. Clean—”

“I heard you the first time, Sir Wolf. I just don’t understa—”

It was the wolf’s turn to interrupt. “It’s clear you don’t understand, young prince. I was trying to ascertain whether your inability to understand plain Russian was based on a physical defect—stuffed ears, whether unclean or for another reason, bad hearing, something of that sort—and if not, on some mental lack which in theory requires me to be considerate and gentle.”

There was a tiny pause, so infinitesimal Ivan would have had no chance to get a syllable of a word in edgewise, sidewise, upwise, or downwise, even had he tried. “You do understand kindness and gentleness are not traits associated with a wolf, and especially not A. Wolfe?”

At the end of this series of insults, the Great Tsar would have raged, calling on his ever-present Imperial Guards to “Rid me of this wolf!”

Anatol would have ranted about the presumptuousness of peasants who did not know or stay in their proper place, probably forgetting who had just offended his sense of propriety.

Vlad would have grabbed his sword, and whether from horseback, or following a grandiose leap to the ground which displayed his awesome athleticism for the admiration of any viewers lurking in the vicinity—it was his policy to always act as if he was being viewed with admiration—would have started hewing and hacking away.

In part because Ivan suspected the outcome would have been the same with all three of those scenes—dead soldiers, dead royal family, likely including bystander youngest prince—Ivan chose the fourth door…and laughed.

He couldn’t say why he saw—thought he saw—a twinkle of humor in the great golden eyes. But he must have been right, because the wolf didn’t leap up, all howling, growling and slavering, and drag him off Gus before doing the devouring which would logically follow offending laughter.

Ivan forced a halt to his own humor. With gasps interrupting his initial words, he said, “My apologies, Sir Wolf. I was not laughing at you. It was an image in my head of my family’s reactions to your words, and yours to theirs. However, with all the respect to which you are entitled, which seems to be at least a reasonable amount”—Ivan was willing to be reasonable, but not obsequious—“I have no mental or physical defect which interferes with my hearing or my understanding. Perhaps the, ah, flaw lies in your explanation of what you mean? Or, you might consider, the lack of one?”

Ivan gave the wolf a princely grin of satisfaction with his response.

Wolfe gave the prince back a wolfeish huff. “I’ll entertain the possibility you might be right, if you’ll entertain the possibility you are not listening as well as you should.”

Ivan nodded.

“Very well. Repeat after me, ‘A wolf is not the same as A. Wolfe.’”

“A wolf is not the same as a wolf.”

Wolfe sighed again. He apparently had an inexhaustible supply, in a wide range of sizes.

“A wolf is an animal, Prince Ivan. It resembles me, but is far smaller, roams the forest, howls from time to time for various reasons, and at times for no reason at all. Perhaps because it doesn’t reason. I am a wolfe—with an ‘e’ at the end. Which means I have magickal skills. My name is: A…full stop…Wolfe.”

Ivan grinned again. “Your first name is Afullstop? What an unusual name. Not Russian, is it?”

 “No. Not an ‘uh’ sound, but a long a-sound, which rhym… You’re teasing.”

Ivan learned another lesson in wolfe-prince relations. A wolf-with-an-e-at-the-end could grin, without his fangs looking all fearsome.

Ivan widened his own grin. “I am. So what does long-A stand for?”


“A handsome name for a handsome wolf-with-an-e.”

Ivan paused. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he decided he would, anyway. “Sir Wolfe, now that I know your name is A. Wolfe, and since we are being so precise with our pronunciations, are you really quite certain I shouldn’t call you ‘A. Wolfie?’ To be sure the final ‘e’ gets its just and proper due?”

Ah. So that’s what a Wolfeish glare looked like with a fillip of fang.

☆ Guest Post ☆

📚 Table of Contents 📚

  • Required Warning For A Russian Fairy Tale
  • To Kvetch, Or Not To Kvetch. A Reader’s Choice
  • A True Tale From A World Beside
  • Before The Start Of The Story
  • The Day After A Starry Starry Night, About Which No Song Was Ever Sung
  • Soldiers Watching, Watching, All Through The Night
  • Sneaks And Spies Secretly Watching, All Through The Night
  • Vladimir And The Starless Night In The Imperial Tree Collection
  • Anatol Takes His Turn At Tree-Watching
  • Ivan Has A Close Encounter Of The F-Word Kind
  • A Quest is Commanded
  • The Firebird Quest Takes Flight, In A Manner of Speaking
  • A One Direction Quest Is Somewhat Quickly Concluded
  • A Second Direction Quest Gets Carried Away
  • A Reassuring Response for the Horse Kvetchers in the Crowd
  • Second Direction Questers vs. The Caliph’s Sayer Of Sooths
  • Ivan Puts His Horse At Risk, And Meets A. Wolfe
  • A Brief Interruption For A Restrained Expression Of The Author’s Justifiable Outrage
  • Ivan Is Compromised, But Carries On Questing
  • Will Sasha Succeed In Seducing Prince Ivan?
  • Sasha Explains, And Ivan Complains When His Manly Bits Get Bashed
  • An Off-The-Page (In The Wings, As It Were) Moment
  • Bad Prince Ivan! No Touch Cage!
  • Bad Prince Ivan! No Touch Bridle!
  • A. Wolfe’s Plan For Abducting A Perfect Princess Goes Awry, Way Awry, And He Brings Back A Not-So-Perfect Prince Instead. Oops!
  • For Want Of A Princess, A Horse Was Likely Lost, And So Forth
  • A Travel Pause For Gratuitous Sex In The Tent—Which Does Not Advance The Plot—At The Insistence Of The Characters
  • For Want Of A Princess, But With A Plan In Place, A Horse Wasn’t Lost After All, And So Forth
  • A Travel Pause For Gratuitous Sex At An Inn Of Reasonable Quality, Which Is To Say, The Closest One, Which Also Does Not Advance, Et Cetera
  • For Want Of A Princess, But With The Help Of A Horse, A Firebird Is Found, And So Forth
  • A Travel Pause For Gratuitous Sex While Staying Overnight In A Gipsumy Caravan, Which Again Does Not Advance, Et Cetera, But Which Is Also The Last Travel Interruption, At The Author’s Insistence
  • Brothers Stewing, Trouble Brewing
  • Cliff-Fallen Notes Concerning A Convergence of Coincidence, Choice, And Consequence
  • Home Is The Place Where, When You’re Almost There, They Get To Do You In
  • A Necessary Interlude To Consider The Age-Old Questing Question: What The [Expletive Of Your Choice, Dear Reader] Do We Do Next?
  • What Are Gate Guards To Do About A Passing Parade Made Up Of A. Wolfe, Two Princes, A Firebird, A (Possibly Magickal) White Stallion, And An Ordinary Mare With Comely Qualities?
  • Dear Readers, Sad News, Bad News, Better News, Or Good News First? Ah. In Light Of The Lack Of Consensus, Sad It Is.
  • Due To The Divisions In Your Opinions, Dear Readers, The Exercise Of Authorial Discretion Is Again Required, And Thus The Good News Is Next.
  • Better News Is Always Better After Good News, Right? Well…Right?
  • Three Months Later, A Bit Of Best News Of All, At Least For A Pair Of Princes
  • Three Months After the Last Three Months And You’re Still Kvetching? Insisting On Disclosure Of The Bad News Mentioned Above? Oh, Very Well.
  • A Most Unusual Aftermath, Occurring Entirely Off The Page, Without The Assistance Of, Or Interference By, The Author
  • An After The Aftermath Moment In Which The Author—Utterly Independent Of Any Outside Goading, Hints, Help, Prompts, Proposals, Persuasions, Prodding, Pushes, Requests, Recommendations, Or Suggestions—Has A(n Obviously) Brilliant Idea.
  • Dear Reader, Along The Way, Did You Happen To See The Allusion To Olivier?

Meet the Author

Eric is an American Midwesterner, and as Lady Glenhaven might say, “He’s old enough to have sailed with Noah.” In the real world he writes for a living, with those who would claim what he writes is fiction. His partner of thirty years—who died unexpectedly in 1995—enthusiastically encouraged him to try to get his writing published (mostly poetry back then, plus some short stories), but he didn’t have the guts to do so until 2013. At this point he’s not sure which was officially first, The Song, or Like a Mountain, Waiting.

Starting then, he’s published 13 novels and novellas, 1 poetry collection, 2 short story collections, and 3 short stories. God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, 2020 will also see The Tinderbox out and about. But since real life is, as we all know, a pain in the (anatomical site of your choice)…no guarantees.

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Also by Eric Alan Westfall

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