Most afternoons, I take a break and read a chapter out loud. My friend is in hospice care now — inoperable pancreatic cancer — and the days can be long and short in equal measure. So we read about Stephanie Plum: a broke, chaotic, wildly unqualified bounty hunter running around suburban New Jersey, blowing up cars, eating donuts in her own defense, and never once managing to solve a case cleanly. It's funny. It's a little racy. It is, in the best possible sense, satisfying —